


The Sick Rose

by possumon



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Consentacles, F/M, NSFW, One shot?, Shameless Smut, Teratophilia, and a lil bit of cum inflation, reader has female genitalia but is referred to as they/them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possumon/pseuds/possumon
Summary: What is loyalty?What does it mean to you,and what does it mean to him?And once you have it, how do you preserve it?He has you. He intends to keep you so long as you remain useful.Who would've thought the fruits of your labor would be so taboo?
Relationships: Urizen (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	The Sick Rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Synchron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/gifts).



> This fic has been a long time comin' and I'm pretty content with how it came out considering the last time I wrote -and posted- anything was back in 2017. There wasn't enough smutty Urizen content for all of us thirsty monster fuckers so you know I had to take it upon myself to provide for the homies, as a treat ✊ I also know my pal, Sync, has been looking forward to this one for quite some time now 👀 Please accept my humble gift in this trying time. Enjoy!

“You’re one fortunate gal, you know that?”

The woman laying barely conscious behind you unsurprisingly doesn’t share your excitement. You’re not sure how, but you chalked it all up to some crazy demonic magic seeing as he was able to turn an inanimate devil arm into a fully-fledged demon. Artemis was its name. An odd name for a weapon, you thought. Your eyes roamed over the piscine-like body perched against the wall like a child examining a new toy.

You hadn’t even started the transmutation process yet and it had already assumed into its new form; something better than a measly devil arm. Bigger, agile, sleek in design but not lacking in untouched potential. Something terrifyingly beautiful. As if it _knew_ what _it_ wanted to be from the moment of its conception instead of what was drawn on its creator's blueprint. Artemis the demon. It certainly looked like a goddess of the hunt now. You carefully ran your fingers across one of its scaly lower wings, brushing over a closed eye.

“A lucky little Lady.” You muttered, looking over your shoulder to make sure she was still breathing.

Although Artemis could still technically operate with a lifeless host, though not as efficiently without that fresh, warm pumping blood, it was still preferred that Lady and her blonde companion were alive for this particular procedure. Lady groaned and managed to squint at you through one eye, the ruby one. An unusual color for a human. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat seized and she coughed violently. During the fight, one of the many roots had whacked her right in the windpipe. That lucky girl was lucky to even be able to wheeze.

With a smile, you pressed a finger to your lips and shushed her. “Don’t wanna strain that voice of yours too much.” You nodded towards the empty demon shell. “Artemis here looks like she’d be one hell of a singer, don’t you think?”

Turning your head back you peeked into the wide chasm stretching its torso open. Perfectly sized for another body to fill. A core for the mechanism. It was time to get to work. As gently as you could, you grabbed Lady under the arms and hauled her up, grunting with effort, angling her body and nudging her backward.

As you wondered how you were going to stuff her in, Artemis suddenly lunged forward, causing you to jump back in surprise as you watched it swallow Lady into its hollow form. The movement was akin to a snake striking a mouse being dangled by the tail; quick and precise with hungry purpose. With a renewed sense of awe, you watched as the woman began to helplessly fuse with Artemis. Her clothing disintegrated instantly and Lady looked at your face once more, this time through her more appropriate blue eye before she was completely sealed away.

At first, there was nothing but an eager silence. You tilted your head this way and that way, eyes scanning and analyzing, anticipating. Did it work? Was she incompatible?

A bone-shaking low-pitch frequency filled the room, and the eyes adorning its wings began to open one by one as they lifted toward the ceiling. Artemis reared its humanoid head as the clawed appendages that covered a non-existent face spread apart; its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of pointed teeth and a blue tongue. And from the throat of that beryl cavern, came an ear-piercing scream. A bursting wail that had you cover your ears and cringe away instantly in pain.

Much like when a baby is born, Artemis cried. It blared through borrowed lungs to declare to all that could hear that it was alive. Another low hum that you felt more than you heard through ringing ears, and it achieved an eerie and impeccable transition into a heavenly croon. Cautiously, you removed your hands from your head and gazed up at this angelic-looking demon. Its bewitching hymns pulsed through the catacombs.

“That’s quite the siren song you’ve got.” You pressed with bated breath.

Those spindly taloned fingers wrapped themselves back into place and Artemis dipped its head to meet you face-to-face. It hissed softly, cautionary but curious, through its still open mouth. Smelling you through its tongue. The warmth coming from its jaws was enough to make you shiver with unease. You could feel its breath on your skin. It _was_ alive.

The corners of your mouth hesitated many times as you tried to give it a friendly smile, too busy marveling at the circumstances of its birth to hold an expression that wasn’t wide-eyed. Would it even know what a smile was? Did it know what _it_ was?

You digressed, and that simply wouldn’t do.

“I’m sure you know what you have to do, don’t you Artemis?” Did it even know it had a name?

Its mouth closed very slowly, seemingly placated. You nudge your head towards the exit to your right. “Better get a move on. Lots of blood to harvest out there.”

Stepping back you watched it straighten up and turn its head to the exit, hovering in place for a moment as if it were processing what you had said.

Of course it knew.

Just as the Angelo knew right as it finished fusing with the blonde and immediately began to express its disdain for humans as soon as it saw you. It was just as unwarranted as his babbling about his “spear piercing through the flesh of all that oppose his master.” You were glad this process didn’t come with the side effect of some sort of imprinting, otherwise, you might’ve been a little more annoyed and very out of your depth.

But they knew who they belonged to. The Angelo's unwavering sense of hatred and Artemis’s innate drone-like behavior to collect blood were imperative components to the success of their king.

You looked on as Artemis turned its body in an unhurried fashion, decidedly, and departed for the world outside of this demonic tree. It disappeared into the dark with only the glow of its many lilac eyes illuminating its path. You brushed some imaginary dust and debris off your jeans, turning on your heel and strolling back toward the throne room with a refreshed skip in your step.

The giddy excitement you felt was palpable and you tried to keep it contained even though you were currently alone. But how thrilling was that?! To be able to take part and observe transmutation up close like that. To see what could be created with empty demonic shells, a human, _and_ another demon. Though there was an elusive force at play, it wouldn’t have been possible without those girls. And, for better or worse, they were safer that way, inside of those lively cadavers. That is unless someone were to slice just a little too deep.

Ah, well. You were too excited to get back to him to worry enough about it. They would be fine!

And besides, the more you thought about it the more it would start to grate on your already tattered moral compass; and the last thing it needed was more scratches. And doing “good” deeds only buffed out one blemish at a time so why waste the energy?

But maybe he would be proud. The thought of him praising you had the gall to try and enter your mind, but reason kicked it back out and slammed the door. Still, it knocked tirelessly.

You stepped into the wide throne room and tried to hide a boasting smile by pinching your bottom lip between your teeth.

There he sat as the centerpiece to this empty chamber, surrounded by a moat filled with blood and roots. He slouched atop his crude throne, the knuckles of one hand pressed to his cheek while the other rested on his thigh. His eyes were closed, seemingly at rest though you knew he didn’t sleep. You had asked him about it one day. He said he didn’t need to. Said it was arbitrary or something like that. He also could’ve said that sleep was for the weak and you would’ve believed that he believed that. Though the idea of catching him in repose was just as intriguing as it was impossible for he would never let himself be caught.

It occurred to you as you approached him that it didn’t matter how many times you entered this room, the sheer gargantuan size of him and his imposing presence was overwhelming. He frightened you, of course; who wouldn’t be fearful of a demon of his stature and delusional grandeur? But he also awakened something else in you. Something that pooled in the pit of your belly and made you _delighted_ to serve him.

You weren’t even ten feet away and you could feel the demonic power radiating off of him, layering the air with an invisible charge that could be ignited with just a snap of his fingers.

Once close enough, you knelt on one knee with a fist pressed to the floor as you bowed your head to your false king. His booming voice, though speaking calmly, always made your skin dapple deliciously. You wondered if he had even bothered to open his eyes.

“I take it you are finished with the transmutation?” He asked.

You responded, voice definitive and unwavering. “Yes, your Majesty. The subjects fused with the devil arm and the Angelo without a hitch.”

“And where are they now?” He asked.

“Cavaliere is en route to procure himself a Geryon as suggested by Malphas, and Artemis is making its way towards the surface to begin cultivating clusters to sustain blood to the Qliphoth.”

He says nothing. You want to look up to chance that maybe he didn’t hear you or his thoughts were simply preoccupied. But you could feel those blazing emerald eyes boring a hole into the entirety of your tiny body. You swallow as quietly as you can, cold sweat beginning to ooze out of the back of your neck.

He usually never took this long to respond. He was always brief and to the point, wanting to be left alone just as quickly. The seconds seemed to drag on as you waited for a response. A grunt. A sigh. Anything. Sneaking a quick glance you find that he _is_ staring, face as impassive as it always is behind all of that thick armor-like flesh. He looks like he’s contemplating something.

After clearing your throat discreetly, you speak up. “Is there anything else I can do for you, your Majesty?”

One again you’re met with nothing.

And that nothing is just silence and it’s thick and stifling. Your hands are starting to feel damp and you wipe your free palm against your jeans. Your heart rate is steadily rising and you pray that he can’t hear it even though you know he can. Fear and uncertainty take the form of ugly insects swarming around inside your head as you tried to decipher his nonresponse.

_Did something go wrong with the transmutation and I just didn’t notice? But he did without even having to be there?_

_Did I give him incorrect information? Cavaliere was to follow Malphas’s order and Artemis was to harvest for clusters. That all checked out._

Then, a more grim possibility crawled its way into your brain, its presence enough to scare fear and uncertainty out of their wings. More insects of the same caliber began to fester from the churning acid in your stomach.

_What if he no longer has a use for me?_

You got up off your knee faster than intended, the bone popping too loudly to your still buzzing ears. You kept your eyes on the floor and placed your palms to the sides of your thighs. He can’t get rid of you if you rid him of yourself first.

Act natural.

“If that is all, your Majesty, I will return to my regular duties and give you an updated progress report for the Qliphoth and its growth at a later time.” You gave one last bow and swiveled on a tight ankle to make a beeline for the exit. Very professional. Well done. He doesn’t suspect a thing.

“You know…”

Oh no.

One foot was mid-step when you froze in place, shackled to the floor by the unsettling purpose sprinkled in his baritone voice.

“You’ve been a servant of mine for quite some time now.”

You only allowed yourself to turn your head slightly toward his direction. “Yes, your Majesty. I have.” You confirmed.

“ _And_ you’ve been… undeniably loyal.” There was a lulling purr laced within his tone that put you off balance and twisted your already buzzing stomach with curious uncertainty.

“Of course, your Majesty.” You swayed back towards him fully, doing your best to not look as nervous as you felt. You kept your head high and your shoulders back if not to express that your devotion to him was undeniable. What else was there?

Your eyes widened, however, when you noticed spindly azure roots leisurely slithering at you. You swallowed the dry lump in your throat as one brushed your leg.

“What kind of King would _I_ be if I didn’t reward my most faithful servant for their obedience?”

Before you could question him, a handful of roots had wrapped around your legs and waist to abruptly haul you towards him, a grunt of surprise pushed from your lungs. You were placed in his lap on one of his massive root-covered thighs. You were suddenly becoming very aware of your current situation. The hairs on your arms and neck stood on end and the receptors in your skin prickled. You had never been this close before. Never able to touch him and left only to wonder what he could feel like. Even so, you kept your hands close to your chest as you hadn’t been given permission to touch. Yet.

You watched wide-eyed as more and more slender appendages began to slink around your body. One wrapped across your chest, another resting politely at the base of your tailbone, and two more snuck between your legs to curl around your thighs. Allowing yourself to be just a little bold, you pilfer another look at this face. Those searing eyes stare back at you, disinterested with the task at hand yet still willingly present. Your throat bobs as you prepare to ask him what he was doing, but you stopped when you felt yet another root sliding up your chest and towards your face. It bumped against your chin.

“Don’t act so coy now, my wicked little lamb.” He chuckles. “You think I haven’t noticed every glance you’ve managed to steal when you enter and leave my chamber?”

A flustered chill darted through your spine and ricocheted into your cheeks as a guilty blush. How dumb of you to think he wouldn’t notice. And how dumb of you to linger on the fact that he had just called you “ _his._ ”

“You think I can’t _smell_ the obnoxiously potent evidence of your desire that shamelessly rests between your legs?”

At that, you tried to close your legs but the fleshy cords around your thighs simply kept them from moving even an inch. Your voice shook as you felt the roots pull them further apart.

“Your Majesty, I-”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to deny it. Unless you’d rather I punish you for being a liar.” He looked at you intently, almost daring you to have a crack at it. But you knew better. Your mouth snapped shut and you quickly shook your head.

Another amused chuckle. “No, of course not.”

The root at your chin inches toward your mouth, brushing the blunt tip of it over your bottom lip. Your head was swimming. Was this actually happening? Were you having some sort of fever dream? Surely he was just testing you somehow, measuring your self-control against temptation. Did you have any resolve if at all? Could you show restraint while your strings were tugged? But… behind the indifference that was always present on his face, you could’ve sworn you saw something else. Or maybe… you wanted to believe you did.

Your lips part and a timid skim from your tongue glides over the head, testing the waters yourself. He sneers at you. “As I thought. What a depraved little creature you are.”

You almost pull back out of embarrassment but something in his judgment ignites that indignant fire in your belly and you press your tongue against it more firmly. You hold his gaze even though it feels like those eyes are skinning you down to the bone. They see you for what you really are; corrupt, devious, greedy, and cold-blooded. Two breeds of the same coin. A dangerous human being. A false king who was power incarnate. A revelation that had you squirming atop his heavy thigh and flicking your tongue at the root on your lip with more enthusiasm.

“Well look at you, so eager to sin. So willing to indulge yourself in such wicked pleasure just for me. Only me.” He growled softly. Your tongue swirled around the tip as you allowed yourself to relax a bit, the muscles in your arms and legs loosening up.

Without warning, that azure tendril breached your mouth completely, forcing your head back to nestle itself against the bed of your tongue as it began to thrust at a harsh pace. You grunted in surprise, watery eyes squeezing shut while he laughed deeply. The large paw of his free hand catches your back to hold you upright; the heat that dispelled from his skin was nearly enough to blister you through your clothing.

“I wonder...how well can you pledge your devotion to your king with that mouth of yours so full.” You peek up at him and your heart stumbled over itself.

The harsh golden light framing a sharp abyss in a sea of green seems to glow even brighter, leering down at you like you were a speck of dirt to be wiped off his foot. Your thighs squeeze together, squishing the roots between them. He grins, all teeth, no humor, and the hubris of a hellish monarch.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” The very tip of his clawed thumb pokes at the collar of your shirt, dangerously close to your pulsing neck. “My blasphemous little harlot.”

You let out a wobbly moan, freely succumbing to your desires at his permission and letting your body relax fully. Now your head was swimming in the best way. This really was happening. _He_ was allowing it to happen. Maybe some of Lady’s luck rubbed off on you. His most successful and loyal servant and he was praising you. Not a king of words, but a king of action and reaction. A king of generous retribution. And he was being very generous with you.

Dreamy purrs and sighs continuously flowed from your stuffed mouth as the root steadily massaged your tongue and throat. The tendrils around your body began to move as well, curling and squeezing wherever they could reach; your body was becoming practically enveloped.  
Some were thick, light blue to dark green; roots unending and pulsing with blood or something else entirely. Others were more slender, purposely sized that way just so they could wriggle their way underneath your clothing. The ones that slipped beneath your shirt took to flicking and twirling around your nipples to tug at them. Those that slithered below your pants engulfed and rubbed at your sweltering core with persistence.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you wouldn’t have missed the brief glint of curiosity in his eyes that prompted him to bring you closer to his body with the hand still supporting you. You would’ve seen the glow of the several blue orbs that spattered across his armor intensify; the clothing on your body turning to dust to expose you to him completely. Your king seemed to press his cheek further into his knuckles as he looked down on you.

“So shameless.” His voice was a drawl, watching a single root prod at your leaking entrance as the others pried your legs apart; watching your cunt quiver under his scrutinizing gaze. You felt his voice echo through your body like the strum of an intangible bass. All you could do was squirm and groan as your body was at his mercy. And what a rare display of mercy it was from such a cruel and prideful king.

“Your body is so honest. That haughty mouth of yours can try to deceive all it wants, but you and I both know your truth, don’t we?” The lilt in his words was akin to a pompous cat taunting a bird with its possession of juicy grub-filled secrets. You didn’t answer him right away, too distracted by the incessant root fucking your mouth while many others squeezed, tugged, and grazed anything they could find.

He raised you up closer and you flinched, the broiling warmth of his breath lapping over your bare skin.

“ ** _Don’t we?_** ” He asked again, rumbling with annoyance at your lack of an immediate response.

You promptly nodded your head -as best as you could- and hummed in agreement. Your king curled his lip and let out a humorless snort.

“As insolent as you are gluttonous.” You looked up at him with apologetic eyes, face flushed and drizzled with tears and saliva; nose dripping and nostrils flaring with your heavy breathing. He wasn't moved.

The thick root that had been teasing your entrance began to ever so slowly push inside of you. Your head fell back with a rapturous moan, legs and arms pulling at your restraints as it wriggled itself deeper and deeper in a slothful manner.

There was an almost unbearable pressure between your thighs with the root casually resting within you; it never moved a single inch once it was settled, but you could feel it throb… throb… throb… And it made you delirious with need.

You were about to lift your head again, whine your pleas at your king when the root in your mouth suddenly decided to pick up speed and fuck your throat with vigor. The sounds of your retching whimpers and muffled cries echoed throughout the chamber. He looked on expectantly, the root thrusting faster and faster. Those encircling your body began to squeeze you tighter, making your head spin.  
It was quiet, and you almost missed it, but what sounded like a short rough groan slipped from the chest of your king before the root stopped and pumped load after egregious load of… _something_ down your throat.

A viscous-like liquid unfurled into your mouth like warm honey. But it didn’t taste sweet. At least not at first. It was jarringly bitter when it first hit your tongue and you tried to jerk your head away from the source to no avail. It seeped in and it soaked and it settled into your tastebuds.

And then the flavor changed completely. It had matured into a nauseating saccharine substance in a matter of seconds that had your eyes rolling and your walls clenching around that stationary root.

The one in your mouth finally retreated and oozed a few extra spurts of that bittersweet liquid onto your neck and chest that bled into your skin as well. You swallowed big gulps of air, chest heaving, and head rolling.

Oh, there was definitely _something_ in that something fluid alright. Your body felt like roiling lava encased in an icy shell. And the sensation of magma continuously being poured over your encapsulated body only to be freeze-dried once more felt vastly more infinite than anything your groggy mind could try to compare it to.

And the residual dizzying buzz had you all but gushing over the root still seated inside you like a lazy tenant with nowhere to be.

“You’re not done just yet.” He said.

You caught sight of that humorless grin again just as you were being maneuvered to hover upside down over his open hand. Vertigo began to saddle up on your brain for another joy ride. The roots around your thighs adjusted, splaying your legs apart and opening you up even further to radioactive eyes.

You couldn't decide if you should feel self-conscious or not about being so exposed. Not like you could ask him either. That would be like a gazelle wanting to know if it was flavorful enough for the alligator who laid the poor bovid’s cracked and bleeding head on the bed of its jaws. The flavor didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It got what it wanted.

You didn't have time to dwell as that tenant suddenly found the motivation to start moving.

It was slow and deliberate, the back and forth motion. Rubbing this way, pressing that; patiently massaging your velvet walls to make itself feel more at home. And you were pliant and responsive, letting him catch your wispy moans in the creases of his palm. Dots were crossing your eyes as you swayed there like a bushel of topsy-turvy sugarbushes hung to dry. Your body donned a coat of gooseflesh when you felt your own essence trickle toward your navel; an unfamiliar and awkward feeling that you couldn’t wipe away as your arms were still bound above your head.

While the root continued its leisure stroking you found yourself losing what little inhibition you had left. Maybe it was all the blood lingering towards your brain that flushed out the remnants, but god, you felt _so good_. And you were singing to the high heavens right before him.

The icy-hot sensation that was injected into you earlier petered out for a mere second before bursting through every cell in your body like tiny individual fireworks. Each shape was unique and loud. Every explosion took a different spot on a pyromaniac’s blast power scale, ranging from absolutely pitiful to FUCK YES, THAT’S THE FUCKING TICKET! DO IT AGAIN! MAKE IT EVEN BIGGER!

Maybe you were having an orgasm without even knowing it.

Some boldness returned to you in your uninhibited stupor. You blinked, blinked, and blinked some more to try and sweep away the sedated lens glued to your eyes as you stretched and watched one of your hands reach towards something muted blue. Your fingertips brush over the smooth surface of his insanely large and warm palm.

Can he feel that? Are your fingers cold? Does it like the tiny feet of an insect creeping across the grooves of a tree? And if this tree had pale blue skin would it feel as off-putting to him as a spider crawling across your face in the middle of the night does to you?

A particularly harsh thrust that accidentally nudges your cervix has your hand buzzing right back to you, covering your mouth to muffle your squeal of discomfort. You remembered that he still hadn’t granted you permission to touch him.

He laughed. It was a short and dour sound through the nose. The root inside you fell back to its original mellow pace, seemingly apologetic for causing you pain in the way it kindly swept around your anterior wall, searching determinedly.

When it found what it was looking for and pressed it _just right_ , your body jolted and you instantly caught your obscenely loud moan behind your hands. His brow arched behind the shell protecting his face.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, pet?" He asked.

You move your hands to answer him, looking up at his neutral upside down expression. "I- I am, your Majesty. I am!”

"Then let me _hear_ you."

His demand prompted the root to knead against that spongy spot with enthusiasm and you keened, openly and emphatically.

"Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He grinned, this time with some actual delight. He _liked_ that sound.

"That's it, my pet. Let go. Lose yourself to the pleasure I'm so graciously bestowing onto you and indulge in the fact that no one else will _ever_ make you feel the way _I'm_ making you feel right now."

His words were so dangerously inviting, imbued with the promise of even more sinful acts to come as the performance went on. What sacrilegious players you both were.

Your toes curled and uncurled as the root stroked faster and faster, swiping side to side while applying just the right amount of pressure. Your moans began their ascent, climbing ever higher and louder that they bounced off the walls and fluttered back to you to be reclaimed. The roots constricting around your thighs and waist tightened and your vision started to blur shapes and colors like a kaleidoscope.

"Sir… your Majesty, I'm gonna come." You warned, already breathless; a reeling head flooded with blood.

"Is that so? Are you asking for permission or simply telling me?" He smirked at the panicked whine he pulled from you when the root began to slow its ministrations.

"Permission! Permission, sir, please!"

"What is it you would like, pet? Hm? Would you like to ask for it faster? Harder? Maybe _deeper?_ " He growled and the root extended further inside of you to emphasize his offer.

You couldn't stop your hands from reaching out to hold yourself steady with his palm, mewling pathetically as you felt your juices spilling across your body. He allowed it this time.

"I want-... I want to come." You panted to him.

"Ahh, they want to come. I suppose I can allow that. You're going to have to ask nicely, however." He was enjoying himself more than you thought. Either that or he was just fooling you with his rendition of some cruel experiment behind all those shark-like teeth. But did a lab rat question the hand that fed it such delicious treats?

You looked at him again, red in the face and covered in a light film of sweat.

"Please, your Majesty. Please, please, _please_ let me come!"

He laughed harshly and you gasped as you suddenly plummeted onto his hand, catching yourself with your forearms. Your head sang its gratitude as the new position allowed all of that collected blood to filter back into the rest of your body where it belonged. The only part of you that remained suspended in the air by dutiful roots was your lower half with your legs still spread wide. That was more than fine with you.

“Well, go on then. Come, pet. Come for _me_.”

As the root nestled within your core returned to its new favorite spot -and yours- you pressed your forehead to his skin while your faded orgasm began to flare back to life. He hummed to himself as he watched you, watched your fingers spread and curl against his flesh; watched the muscles of your shoulder blades tread a measure to your own breathing; watched your ribcage expand with every puff and pant. He found himself almost mesmerized by every subtle motion in your body. Almost.

You let out a startled yelp when an unoccupied root whipped across your ass.

Oh, he _really_ liked that sound.

He fancied the way you flinched in his hand with every lash to each cheek and he absolutely relished the way you cried out; so wanton and eager for all the pleasure he was giving you. Even when your silky wet cyprine was splattered all over his once pristine skin did he choose to purr. And you responded to those purrs with your own aching mewls.

“That’s it… come for your king.”

The root at your G-spot was the breadwinner of the bunch for sure. It didn’t stop. It didn’t falter in its pace and you knew nothing could slow it down even as your walls began to seize around it.

Your breath got caught in your lungs. You felt a tide of warmth surge from between your legs, through your belly, and into your already smoldering chest. Part of you wondered if it was the heat of his breath and you shivered at the thought.

That wave forced your lungs to expel that captive breath in the form of a guttural moan before it receded back towards your center and crashed into you recklessly.

You shook and dug your nails into his unyielding skin, riding out those feverish flares. You pulsed around the root, stuck in a radiating rhythm that wouldn’t slow down until that infernal root did. But it wasn’t letting up. Not in the slightest bit.

Your cries grew louder and became borderline _hysterical_ when you felt a tendril curl around your swollen clit. He took note of that, of course.

“S-sir, please! W-wait!”

He didn’t.

“It’s too much! Plea-ah! Please! Slow down!”

He wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong, pet? Isn’t this what you wanted?” His words were like barbs latching onto your skin, making you red and raw. Or maybe that was the work of the roots that resumed spanking the meat of your ass in tandem with the tempo of the one inside you.

“Can’t take it, little one? I must say, I’m a little disappointed to hear that.” If he really was so miffed, he sure didn’t sound like it. If anything, he sounded more charmed by your body’s torment than disappointed. And yet it plucked at that tiny thread of guilt that most people had somewhere within them.

“Please… your Majesty, I-” You tried to bolster yourself for another orgasm that you knew was coming but he tore that effort from you when you were abruptly, and quite roughly, being repositioned onto your back. Whatever you were about to say got lodged in your throat when your eyes crossed with his.

When did he get so close?

When he spoke, his words prowled toward you with the measured patience of a big cat slinking between his teeth.

“Are you being _**ungrateful?**_ ”

You nearly didn’t answer, transfixed by the fierce colors swirling around the orbs sunken into his face. Like the stormy clouds of ammonia on Jupiter.

They were consuming you.

“N-no! Of course not!” Your voice was but a mere creak even at full volume, a different kind of sweat mixing with what was already there.

He curled one side of his mouth and you swallowed the apology in your dry throat. Now he looked disappointed.

You were just as gutted when every root that was attached to your skin made a hasty retreat from your body, leaving you feeling cold and abandoned.

You reached toward him, toward those roots you’d grown fond of. “Wait! Your Majesty, I’m sorry! Please, I didn’t me-”

“I think I prefer you with that wretched mouth of yours stuffed.” He snarled.

The first root you had gotten familiar with found its way back into that familiar warm bed between your lips and you wrapped yourself around it without any complaints. The rest of those stout cyan friends of yours followed suit to take back their respective positions across your body. But they were more abrasive this time, expressing your king’s lacking tolerance for your insubordination through crude handling.

But who were you to complain when you were being hugged in all the right places?

The root in your mouth soaked up every whimper while he took in your red-faced appearance as the root that had left your cunt slid back home. Your head lolled back as you welcomed that pleasantly thick, wriggling girth. You wished you could thank him.

“Much better.”

You found yourself agreeing with a hungry groan and bucking hips, glad to hear him purring again.

“Now then…” He sighed.

Once more, he never took his eyes off you as those roots carried on with their mission. A ruthless sedentary predator who ate his fill on the sight of you writhing so desperately. Whether it was towards your impending climax or further from it, it didn’t matter.

“You’re going to come again like a good little pet, aren’t you?”

You nodded, a whine of surprise driveling out of you as you felt another root wedge its way inside your already crowded cunt. The velvety nectar you were continuously producing was more than generous enough to give it a helping hand. That one took it upon itself to be the white-hot piston that kept you feeling full while your original tenant began to rub that cushiony spot so adoringly.

“And you’re going to take _everything_ that I give to you…” His voice sent quakes of anticipation through every bone, down to the marrow and every fiber in between.

He allowed his cheek to press fully into the palm of his free hand, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly while you wailed just the way he liked. And you got even noisier when that tendril found your clit again.

Your next orgasm took your body without warning or mercy. It tore you apart and sewed you back together just to brush the needle across those sensitive seams over and over and over. You were overheating and unbearably wet. Tingling all over and in places where the nerve endings were beginning to fray. You were burning alive. It was starting to become too much again.

No matter how hard you thrashed you were held as you were, unable to escape. Those roots weren’t stopping, bound and determined to break you completely. Tenacious like your king. Another flare erupted from your belly and the heat of it intensified the rusty color that settled on the skin of your chest and neck. You were screaming now, though it was dulled. The root on your tongue was starting to bloat, as were the two between your thighs.

“There you go… just a little more. You’re doing so well, pet.” There was a rasp to his voice that made his praise taste even sweeter than that sticky something you knew was coming.

At least you thought you were ready this time.

Nothing could ever prepare you for that initial flavor when it spilled. That part was the acquired taste. It was what came after, that saccharine burst, that was the spur and reward of your greedy guzzling. A shiver rattled your spine when you felt hot, copious ropes of it being emptied into your womb.

Your eyes shot open at a strange sensation and you directed your attention to your swelling lower abdomen. The spent root in your mouth slipped from your lips while you watched your flesh gradually expand, panting and spellbound by the sight. It didn’t stop until you were filled to the brim, leaving you with a tight considerable bump. Fireworks set off the cells in your body again. Your thighs trembled at the buzzing sensation, explosions dancing behind your flesh, reverberating through your clit and every other overstimulated piece of you.

The twin roots pulled out and what couldn’t remain simply coated your throbbing sex. It dribbled in heavy drops from your folds, pooled with the juices collected in his palm. Would he make you clean all that up? And if he did, would he make you use your tongue? You certainly weren’t averse to the idea.

You chased your breath and looked up to find that same drowsy appearance he sported when you first walked in. Was he worn out too? There was no way. This creature had the stamina of a million demons and then some. The roots around your body lifted you up and drifted you back down towards the floor below before unkindly dropping you to your unsteady feet. As expected, you immediately slipped and collapsed onto your ass with a wet smack.

“Oww…”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and hummed a sigh from his chest, his frigid green eyes finally opening and focusing on you. He looked bored again.

“Go get yourself cleaned up. You’ve got work to do.” He casually flicked the hand that had been holding you, shaking off any and all droplets of evidence and you watched it evaporate into the balmy air.

You could feel yourself leaking near endlessly as you pushed yourself back onto your feet where it all began to puddle. God, you could bottle that cum-like nectar and sell it for some fat stacks if you were ever in need of some quick cash. It would sell like hot cakes in the "Demonic & Otherwordly" department on the black market for sure. Cum money was better than no money. You were reminded of how naked you were without the embrace of his heated roots and you hugged your arms close to your body. Not in modesty, no, you just didn't want to lose that dwindling wicked warmth too soon.

You bowed and found that you weren’t sure if you liked that sloshing feeling in your distended belly or not. It was like you swallowed an entire water balloon. “Yes, your Majesty.” You uttered hoarsely.

As you stumbled and begged your slick wobbly legs not to give out as you made your leave, you came to a stop at the mouth of the chamber, one hand gripping onto the massive door for support. He watched you hesitate.

You peered over your shoulder. “Uh… thank you.”

A vacant stare was all you were given, the same one from the beginning of your interaction. You expected as much. He had a killer poker face. If you weren’t so exhausted and pressed for time you would’ve asked him if he would indulge you in a game of cards sometime. Best not push all that borrowed luck too soon.

Just as you were about to leave you heard him grunt. “Don’t become too comfortable, **_worm_**.”

Your heart flickered curiously but you didn’t dare look back at him now, no matter how badly you wanted to.

Were his eyes gleaming? Was he showing his teeth? Was he giving you that grin again? You saved the memories of today for another one to enjoy in private. A switch was flipped in your brain and you were back to business mode, the embers of grit in your eyes reignited by a fresh flame. All of that blood wasn’t going to collect itself.

Even as you skidded across the floor and your arms flailed wildly to catch yourself as you stiffly tumbled again and again and again toward the upper echelons of this inverted labyrinth, that flame didn’t falter. For as long as he continued to allow you to serve him, your cinders would always be there to kindle the inferno of his motivations.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see more or send me requests, you can go ahead and follow me over on Tumblr!
> 
> Main: https://possumon.tumblr.com/
> 
> DMC: https://balladeer-angelo.tumblr.com/


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